Incubus, or ridiculous, as I will from now on think of it, gives top billing to none other than Tara Reid, whose perpetual orange "tan" has always bothered me. But it's her lack of acting ability and her raspy voice that really grate on my last nerve.
Leading a cast of actors I have never seen before and am quite frankly surprised have ever been gainfully employed in films, Reid plays Jay, one of six college students who walk away unscathed from a car wreck only to find themselves stranded in the middle of nowhere (actually, the middle of the Bitteroot Mountains in Montana).
Like any predictable horror film, they soon stray from the marked road into the woods, where an even more predictable storm comes rolling in. Then, when they stumble across what appears to be a hidden, strange building, they decide to break in and seek shelter from the dark woods.
Of course they do. Because that's always what you do when you're lost in the creepy dark woods in the middle of nowhere--break into the even creepier building.
They quickly get themselves stuck inside, and that's when the fun really starts. They find a guy (who looks an awful lot like Pinhead from the Hellraiser franchise, but without the pins) being kept alive in a weird plastic box. So what do they do? Open up the room he's locked in, of course.
From predictable storylines, to dialogue that ranges from making the actors sound like what they are--typical college kids--to geniuses who know everything there is to know about psychology, electrical engineering, the death penalty and demonology, the storyline ranges from implausible to downright ridiculous.
The film, mastered in high definition, is presented unrated in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen format. The video did a good job presenting crisp colors, especially since much of the film was shot in darkened sets with little direct lighting.
Spoken in English with 5.1 Dolby Digital sound, I was able to hear every bad line, silly scared squeak, and fake sob emitting from the actors.
None, thank goodness.
Don't. waste. your. time. It's 87 minutes you'll never get back. Believe me, I know.
Juliet Farmer, aka writnkitten